It had come to Snowflake’s attention that he had died and gone to hell. He suspected the Emperor killed him in their grand battle and his journey to this ‘world’ was a fever dream created by his mind in his last dying breaths. Now, he was being punished by the powers that be for failing in his mission to eradicate the Emperor’s evil.
His only hope to escape this purgatory was to find some path to redemption. Or, he could just give up and endure the eternal suffering. At the moment, he was leaning toward the latter.
He paused his musings just long enough to wretch for the tenth? maybe twelfth? time. He lost count. Counting was difficult enough between each heaving breath. It was even worse while trying cope with such horrendous torture.
“Alright. We will finish here,” his torturer announced. She peered down at him through white warpaint. Her small, albeit fit, frame was imposing. Not through size, but through what he had experienced at her hands. “This will be your regular schedule. Every morning and afternoon will be obstacle course and melee drills. If you advance quick enough you can join the other two with their magic exercises.”
Snowflake tried, and failed spectacularly, to suppress a groan. The multi-tiered obstacle course alone would be a daunting task. It was a monumental exercise in agility and spatial awareness, difficult even if it was built to human standards. Instead, it was almost impossible to complete without the enhanced physical abilities afforded to a competent user of chemical and/or kinetic energy. He wasn’t even a novice, much less someone who could dodge, jump, and climb something like…. That.
Then, to endure a merciless beating at Honey’s hands with both armed and unarmed combat until he collapsed from sheer exhaustion? If he hadn’t already connected himself to Source he would accuse her of trying to push him past his physical limits again. As it stood, it was all he could do to absorb enough Source to keep himself moving.
As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he felt like he’d stumbled across a hidden truth. The conclusion he was reaching for stayed just out of his reach but if he-
A flood of energy rushed through him, easing his aches and pains. It made him feel invigorated. Not a veneer of frantic energy, but like he had just woken up from a good night’s sleep.
Mordai’s large, armor covered hand clapped him on the shoulder in a gesture he decided to interpret as friendly, despite almost being knocked over. Unlike Honey, Mordai could be described as intimidating just by his appearance. With his red skin, dark swirling tattoos, and horns jutting out of his head, he looked the sort of magic-infused monster that the Emperor sent to kill him time and time again. Except, of course, monsters weren’t prone to bad jokes, big grins, and didn’t have a twinkle in their eye that spoke of a joke only they knew.
Earlier today, when he met everyone here for training, he caught the tail end of Mordai and Honey’s conversation. At the time, he thought it was odd Honey struck her fellow instructor, especially over something so mundane. When asked, Bonehammer explained that Honey was a beast-kin of badger descent with an apparent disdain for puns, which led to Mordai using them to get a rise out of her.
“Better go get cleaned up, hot shot,” Mordai said with a conspirator’s wink toward Snowflake. “Not gonna impress anyone if you show up looking like this.”
Honey rolled her eyes at Mordai’s comment, answering Snowflake’s question before he could ask it. “We are taking all of you out for a drink.”
“Why?”
As much as he enjoyed lamenting the hours of excruciating training that he endured so far today, Snowflake had been looking forward to learning more about the magic of this world. He assumed they would teach him after sparring and he felt like there was not much time to waste.
Yesterday Honey told him that there was a way to regain his former world, but she also implied it was a long journey. In his experience, long journeys were often riddled with unexpected danger. He had a goal or ‘destination’ if he was sticking to the journey metaphor. It was vague and distant, so the first step was to plot a path. For that, he needed information. Swilling mead in a pub seemed less than ideal for exploring the arcane mysteries of this world.
“Team building exercise.”
“Work hard, play hard.”
The answers were simultaneous, but not on the same page. Honey said hers with gravitas, the authority practically leaking out of her five-foot frame. Mordai’s was as playful as could be, given that he was a six-and-a-half-foot monster in plate armor.
Snowflake nodded his understanding, swallowed his discontent, and decided to give his instructors the benefit of the doubt. Honey’s harsh training methods had results that spoke for themselves. Given that they were peers, Mordai must be equally impressive in his own fashion.
He hoped.
As he dwelled on thoughts of Mordai’s competence, a sudden thought struck him. His mouth moved faster than his brain.
“Mordai, why do you wear full plate?” Snowflake’s brain caught on half a second later and stumbled to justify the sudden, unrelated question. “I mean, we’re in the middle of a city and it should be safe—err, should I be looking out for something dangerous?”
“Oh, that?” Mordai gave a nervous chuckle and reached up to tug on one of his horns. “Just an old habit. Back in my world, you never knew when someone was gonna to play ‘smite the demon’, or if today was the day that the local cult tries to overthrow the Church.”
Snowflake’s brow furrowed as he considered Mordai’s conflicting answer. He opened his mouth to ask a clarifying question but thought better of it when Honey made eye contact with him. The look of warning on her face was clear.
Happy with Snowflake’s apparent acceptance of his answer, Mordai shuffled him off to the Guild barracks to shower and change.
***
Snowflake, dressed in clean Guild-provided clothes, looked around the building and considered semantics. They sat at a sturdy, polished wood table near one of the walls; half of the seating built in the wall as a booth with a couple of chairs around the rest. The venue was predominately wood with a nice, long bar as well as a staircase implying a second floor. Above the bar was chalkboard with lists of both food and drink.
The semantics he considered was this: was this place considered a bar, restaurant, or an inn? As far as he could tell, it met the requirements for all three, if the upstairs had rooms. The answer wasn’t all that important to him personally, but from what he could gather of Classes, the type of venue would have a significant outcome on the Class and subsequent Skills.
For example, was the girl grabbing their drinks a [Waitress] or [Barmaid]? Did the proprietor of this place have levels in [Innkeeper] or [Restaurateur]?
Next to him on the booth, Ra’hel shifted a little closer, reminding him what, or who, he was studiously trying to ignore. There wasn’t anything wrong with her, in fact there were a few things he’d consider to be very right, but she made him a little uneasy. At first, he thought it had to do with her snake half, currently coiled beneath the table. But, after a brief consideration he dismissed that idea. Other species didn’t bother him, and her human half did a lot to make up for having a few scales.
He felt a blush creeping up his neck at the thought of how pretty she was. Her multi-toned purple hair, which matched her scales, was long and luscious. She had the cutest little nose and her full lips were sensual and inviting. Not to mention her slender neck which led to an exquisite collarbone which led to-
Snowflake caught himself staring and ripped his eyes away. He searched for their waitress, already ready to order another drink, even though he hadn’t received his first yet.
No, what made him uncomfortable was how attractive she was. Snowflake knew he was fairly good looking, at least not bad looking, but he was under no illusions that someone as gorgeous as Ra’hel would be taken with him on sight. Not in this weakened state at least. Back when he was strong enough to fight an army with nothing but the cloak on his back and magic at his call…
“Here we go folks,” their waitress said, passing out drinks. “Mordai. Honey. The boss told me you’re welcome to bring your latest batch of proteges around, but to remind you that the Guild will get charged for any damages.”
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Mordai winced at the reminder. Honey was a tad more defensive.
“It was self-defense!”
“Boss said it doesn’t count as self-defense if you goad them into attacking you.”
“Fine,” Honey said, taking a sip of the amber liquid in her glass in a manner that could only be described as ‘surly.’
“Excuse me,” Snowflake grabbed the waitress’ attention just as she turned to walk away. He glanced at the chalkboard, finding the cheapest drinks near the bottom. “Could we get a round of, uh, shots?”
Snowflake didn’t know what shots were, but they were cheap, and he was committed to a second drink.
“Sure thing, hun,” she said with a smile that put him at ease. He absently wondered if it was a Skill at work.
The rest of the table applauded his decision, Mordai commenting that he was a ‘man after his own heart’ and Ra’hel making a comment about liking to party that got his heart thumping.
“All this time training and we go out for a casual drink the first day he shows up,” Bonehammer said, in the lull that followed, gesturing to Snowflake. Her words held no accusations, just blunt observation. “Why?”
“Well,” Mordai said, taking the lead before Honey could speak up. “I- we, thought that now there are three of you we could-“
A large hand slammed down on the table, interrupting Mordai’s speech. The owner of said hand was a tall, muscular man with broad shoulders, long dark hair, and handsome face, currently marred with a sneer. He was quite hairy and large, but in the way Snowflake associated with strongmen and not with undue opulence. Two similarly large and imposing men shadowed him.
Snowflake felt a twinge at the sight. All the men he’d met since coming here had been taller than him and more muscular. They were not all as huge as this stranger and his 2-bit thugs, Angosin had a lean sort of grace and Mordai was less bulky than the newcomer, even in armor, but he did not enjoy the precedent it was setting.
No magic AND physically inferior to every man he met? Not a good sign. Of course, if this place was truly as peaceful as it seemed at first glance, it wouldn’t be an issue. However, his highest priority instruction since arriving had been combat related. First, an introduction to alien weaponry, then melee training. Maybe it was a coincidence, but he doubted it.
“If it isn’t the Demon and the Slave,” the man said, his deep voice taking a clear, mocking tone. Behind him, his cronies chuckled at the nicknames. “I didn’t think you’d show your faces around here again.”
“Oh, hey Dave,” if the man’s challenging tone got under Honey’s skin, Snowflake couldn’t tell. She cocked a brow in recognition, taking a sip of her drink before bothering to reply. “Still picking fights in bars because you are too scared to climb the Dungeon?”
“Nah, I ranked up. I’m actually a [Beserker] now,” Dave said. If he was ashamed of picking fights, it didn’t show on his face. He glanced around the table, taking in the new faces. His gaze lingered on some more than others. “I see you’ve got a new group of rebels. Maybe you’ll manage to keep these ones alive long enough for them to abandon you like the rest. Can’t rightly say I blame them. After all, who’d want to keep the company of this red-skinned hell spawn and a whore like you who’d do anything for money.”
Snowflake and his fellow trainees watched the discussion with silent interest. ‘Dave’ was being none too subtle about getting a rise out of their instructors, which told Snowflake two things. One, their instructors had enemies. That wasn’t too surprising. Angosin told him when he introduced him to Honey that she was antagonistic toward the Guild. There was bound to be at least a few members to take offense.
Two, there was a grain of truth in his words. Spouting off nonsense was an ineffective way to goad someone. To prod them to action you had to use things that hurt, and judging from the tightness in Honey’s eyes, Dave had managed to hit a few marks.
“Do you think your Core would be enough to cover damages after I rip open your chest and pull it out?” Honey’s words carried with them the weight of the inevitable, the emotion in her eyes not leaking into her voice. It wasn’t a threat; it was an honest question to a man who was dead to her.
“Ya know Dave,” Mordai said, reaching over to stop Honey from rising out of her chair. “It occurs to me that you and your goons only came over after it was made clear we weren’t allowed to fight. I doubt it means anything, but I’m sorta surprised. I heard [Beserkers] were brave front-line fighters, not cowards.”
A collective ‘oof’ sounded from the nearby tables, filled with people watching the exchange. Snowflake was sure that most listeners were thinking the same thing he was. ‘That one had to hurt.’ Honey’s threat of violence was to be expected, but Mordai’s words had to sting. In Snowflake’s experience, warriors had a sense of honor and pride in their bravery. To be accused of cowardice was a one-way ticket to a fight.
As he glanced past Dave to the gathering crowd, he thought he saw a flash here and there as bets were traded.
Dave curled his hand into a massive fist, his bones and tendons creaking with audible force.
“Says the demon so afraid of his own shadow that he sleeps in armor.”
“Dave. Oh, Davey boy,” Mordai shook his head, a pained look of sympathy plastered on his face. “I get it. You took the [Beserker] class cause you can only process your feelings through anger. I mean, that’s fine but if you wanna find out what I sleep in, I’m gonna hafta insist that you funnel that anger into buying me a drink first. You’re not my usual type but I-“
Dave raised his fist with a wordless roar, by all accounts given into said anger. He even managed to take a swing, which Honey reached across the table to deflect with an open hand, before a frying pan came flying out of the blue. It struck him in the head, causing Dave’s cronies to halt mid stride and all eyes to turn the direction it came from. Except for Dave, who was a tad cross-eyed.
“Damn it, Dave,” a petite, red-headed human woman said, brushing off her apron with one hand and hefting a second frying pan with the other. “Stop trying to pick a fight or I’ll come over there and kick your ass myself.”
A low boo rumbled into existence as the nearby patrons took offense to the fun being shut down, some even going as far as to shout ‘let ‘em fight!’ The woman just raised her pan in response, meeting each glare with a stony one of her own. It wasn’t long before the discontented crowd made their way back to their seats, grumbling all the way.
“This isn’t over,” Dave said in a low hiss as he turned to walk away.
“I’ll try to find you a good [Therapist]!”
“Any place. Any time. Bring more friends to make it worth my while.”
Mordai and Honey voiced their respective opinions to Dave’s back as he and his friends made their way back to wherever they came from.
“Now, where were we?” Mordai picked up a small glass of liquid, an identical one of five, that had appeared on the table while everyone was distracted.
“We already got a bit rough, so let’s get a bit rowdy,” Ra’hel said, snagging a glass off the table and bumping her scaly hip against Snowflake’s. It was soft and warm.
“You were telling us why we’re here now instead of before,” Bonehammer stuck to the original subject, refusing to be distracted by things as mundane as a fight almost breaking out.
“We are here to bond,” Honey said, snagging a shot of her own. “Relationships are an important part of motivation. Next round is on me. I need it.”
“To drinking and bonding?” Snowflake suggested, raising his small glass and making eye contact with Bonehammer. He could tell that the small dryad’s suspicions were far from dispelled, but they raised their glass anyway.
“Fuck Dave!” Mordai shouted.
“Fuck Dave!” The rest roared in agreement, clinking the small glasses together. Snowflake swallowed his in one go, expecting a flavorful mead or wine. Instead he felt a burning sensation tear its way down his throat and settle, warm in his belly. He spluttered and coughed. Looking round the table, he saw various twisted up faces, but no one was reacting like they’d been poisoned.
Was this how it was supposed to taste? He took a large swig of the drink he ordered earlier to try and wash the burning feeling away.
Honey collected their glasses --her face was impassive in response to the gut-wrenching liquid-- and went to go grab another round. This left Mordai in charge of their small group.
“Okay, okay,” he said, gathering their attention. As soon as he had it, he plunged forward with a story. “Let’s share Awakening stories! I’ll go first. You see, after being chosen by the god of Justice to be his earthly Avatar, I had to break down the three walls that separated me from him.”
“Actual walls?”
“Actual walls! Each one represented a step closer to ascension. The first one was in this monastery. It had these weird noises were coming from behind it and golden light seeped through the cracks. But you see, I had to be a monk to open it. So, I went on a journey of enlightenment…”
Mordai spun a wild tale of adventure, drawing everyone but the returned Honey in with his words. Behind each of the first two walls was another wall, each more intriguing than the last, with more and more stringent requirements to break it down. The third wall required him to ascend to godhood himself to even have a chance. The story dragged on for a while. Snowflake couldn’t say for how long, but it was at least three of those ‘shots.’
“What was behind the third wall!” Ra’hel demanded, unable to take Mordai’s stalling any longer.
“You’ll hafta become a god to find out!” Mordai roared with laughter, taking everyone, but Honey, by surprise. Honey, however, was the first to lead them in a chorus of boos and hisses.
“But how did you Awaken?” Bonehammer said when the heckling calmed down.
“I broke down the fourth wall,” Mordai said, offering them an exaggerated smile and wink.
He went to go buy another round of shots, ushered by a reignited chorus of jeers.
Snowflake was happy that Mordai took the time to tell them his story in such a way. The rest of the stories were much less lighthearted and fun as his. The others told the bare minimum of their adventures, only sharing enough detail to get the point across.
Bonehammer went on a quest to find the bones of the world and forge an all-consuming weapon out of them. Instead of bones like the history of their world said, all they found were lies. Even with the sparse details, Snowflake could tell it was a dark story of unfulfilled revenge.
Ra’hel’s was not as dark per se, but the fact that she sought out and devoured the world serpent just to have it transform into a strange (and apparently tasteless) book, had some… interesting implications about her feeding habits. If Snowflake ever started raising magical beasts, he’d have to keep an eye on her.
No one was particularly impressed by Snowflake’s story of ‘magic did it,’ and Honey’s story was a mood killer of epic proportions. Wandering the world searching for a reason why her life could possibly be so cruel and terrible, deciding such a world must be fake, and then being offered a place here moments before she could end the suffering? No amount of shots could brighten that mood.
Thankfully, Mordai had another idea.
“Alright, alright. Enough depressing talk! Let’s talk Unique Skills. Whatcha got?”